Because there are no kerbs.
I'm full of ruddy verbs.
Like touch, caress and sometimes kiss,
Like care, appeal and maybe sigh,
and woo and sue and oft-times buss.
All 'do' words, each with action in mind.
We hardly touch, we don't caress.
I long to hold you in my arms,
To find the spot that makes you smile
To press your funny button, make you giggle,
Not those that merely make you shriek,
There was a time, not that far past,
and if that kiss had had a fulsome start,
It would have been brilliant, wonderful, great.
Somehow your mother would simmer and frown,
So once more, it's patience, loyalty, wait.
I'll go on with hoping, being helpful and kind,
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Poem / Literary Fiction
Poem / Memoir
Short Story / Memoir
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